I’ve always been thin…lucky thin, because I sure wasn’t trying. I realized I had reached adulthood when I would look at a bag of chips and instantly put on a pound in each butt cheek! Having to watch what I eat is a crappy adult responsibility.

yeah you are so right, Naty…
i am 23 and i stay far away from home and live all by myself. i reach home from work at around like 9 pm after which i have to cook my dinner. sometimes i wish dinner would wait for me miraculously… 🙂
now i realize i’m groing up!!

this is a great question – i’m 33 and there are still things that make me ‘feel like an adult’…like we (hubby and i) just recently purchased a new couch…not a hand me down…umm…when we bought a new house and i got to choose whatever colors i wanted for the walls (sooo fun but also overwhelmed by choices!).

On December 6th 1958..when my first daughter was born. I was 18 years of age and I then realized that my freedom days were over. I was now a Mother with all the responsibility that comes with that. It was now a case of living in two rooms at the top of four flights of stairs, nappies to be boiled and washed everyday(there were no diapers in those days). I remember my 21st Birthday up to my arm pits in soiled nappies with two small babies.
Oh the joys of Motherhood and the fun a being an adult

I’m an adult?! Nah; inside I’m 25 tops. Outside – well, I’m not telling my age – I realized I was an adult when I had to deal with the hassle of filling out a 1040 form and figuring my taxes. Today, dealing with my taxes again, I just want to cry for my mommy. When I was a kid and would say I wish I were grown, up, my mother would say, “Don’t say that; being an adult just means lots of paprwork. She was so right!

I became an adult the moment I knew I was In-dependent…dependent on myself, responsible for myself and my actions. When that was time was I could not tell you but it was an amazing shift! ;D I love being a grown up!

I realized I was an adult when I stepped into the foyer of my mom’s condo wanting so badly to put my head on my mother’s lap and cry at the death of my youngest sister. I wanted my mom to stroke my head the way she would when I would come home from middle-school crying for courage I did not have to stand up for myself. I waited in the guest bedroom upstairs for my mother to come and comfort me. She came and when I rushed to her with my sorrow she held me at arm’s length herself blinded by eyes nearly swollen shut from her own tears. I was startled at the harshness with which she grabbed my shoulders. “Don’t you dare break down on me now!” I stepped back knowing any consolation I was looking for would not be found in the arms of my mother today. “You’ll have to take care of this,” my mother told me. “Your sister’s body needs to be claimed at the morgue and funeral arrangements need to be made. And I’ll be damn if I am going to pick out another coffin for a child of mine. This is not the way it should be.” With that, my mother made her way down the hall to her room slamming the door against her misery. I was 42 and as selfish as a four-year-old. I collapsed in a chair by the window knowing I’d have to take that four year old to the time-out corner, let her know that her mother is, for the second time in three years, suffering the death of a child. If she didn’t have courage before she’d have to have it now.
My mother was right – a parent should not outlive her child – it is the way of life, its continuum, its mobius loop of existence. But reality has its own heartbeat – one that skips and murmurs through the vicissitudes of the calendar. And for the remainder of her day, my mother remained stuck between the nether days of sorrow and loss – again. Putting my mourning on hold, I eventually got up from the chair and, as an adult, did what had to be done. Flying back to New York I was overwhelmed with sadness at my baby sister’s death. It was a sorrow doubled by the loss of personal vitality. To this day I continue to mourn my sister – along with the loss of my youth.

When I stopped going out on Thursday nights because I had to get up for work the next morning. Or when I started going home by midnight on Friday nights because I was tired from getting up for work early all week!